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by Flywoman



Category: Square Dance
Genre: Epilogue, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-09
Updated: 2011-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-23 14:15:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flywoman/pseuds/Flywoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gemma grows up. Rory gets his happy ending. (I'm not so sure about Gemma.)</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> IDEK. I watched the movie yesterday, and then this happened.

The first few weeks, you cry a lot.

It ain’t just because your thing still hurts, feels like it’s on fire when you pee, even after the bandages come off. It ain’t just because everything here is new and strange and cold and bright. It’s the feeling in your chest that gets worse every day and makes it hard to breathe.

You ain’t the only one. Some of the others cry too, boys _and_ girls. Sometimes one of the others will come up to you and ask what’s wrong, why are you sad. But you don’t want to talk about it. You don’t want to remember.

Sometimes you can’t help it. Sometimes you close your eyes at night and find yourself back in that room, and Gwennie is sitting on top of you and you’re sweaty and confused, but she’s smiling at you and making you feel so good. But then Gemma comes and sees you, and she throws her book and there’s a loud noise and Gwennie falls against the wall, and you’re still lying there, feeling sick, trapped under her, shouting, crying, but Gemma doesn’t come back and Gwennie doesn’t wake up.

And you know then that you’ve been a bad boy, that Gemma is mad at you for playing with Gwennie, and your Dolores will be mad because you let Gwennie touch your thing, and you push her off and get the scissors, and when you see the blood and feel the pain, you finally wake up.

And you’re shaking, and your pillow is wet, and your throat hurts, but no one comes to hold you, or even to tell you to shut up so’s they can get some sleep.

That’s the scary dream. But there are nice ones too. Sometimes you’re sitting outside with Gemma in the grass and she’s reading you the story about the bread and the fish. Sometimes you’re playing your fiddle for her, and she dances, smiling at you, moving her dress back and forth, and you feel so loved that when you wake up and find out it’s not real, you cry. That’s almost worse.

***

You don’t like the food here. Your Dolores didn’t cook real good, but Gemma did. Cooked all your favorites, pork chops with gravy and mashed potatoes and applesauce cake. Like the day you asked her to marry you and she said yes.

But even though you don’t eat much, you get fat and slow. There’s no Gemma to chase or dance with. Nothing you want to do. You take lots of naps. They call those _siestas_ in Mexico. Gemma told you that.

***

Some of the others want to be your friends, but they’re not smart and pretty like Gemma. Some of them want to touch you. You get scared and mad when they try.

One time you yell _No,_ and you push, and the girl, her name’s Melly, she falls against the wall, just like Gwennie did. Everything goes black.

When you wake up, you’re in bed, and you can’t sit up or move your arms. They give you shots that make you sleepy and dumb.

When the doctors finally let you back in with the others, they leave you alone.

***

One morning you’re drawing a picture of the beauty shop and a shadow falls over the paper and you look up. It’s a girl, and you think you know her, and then you think you must be dreaming again, but Gemma always looks the same in your dreams, and this girl is older, taller. She’s smiling at you. She’s real pretty.

“Hi Rory,” she says, and from the way she sounds, saying your name, you know it can’t be anyone but her. “Do you remember me?”

You remember more than people think. “You’re Gemma,” you say, slowly because you don’t talk much here, and her smile gets even bigger, but when you reach up to touch her cheek, to make sure she’s real, your finger comes back wet.

She moves closer, until her hip is touching your shoulder, and you sigh and lean your head against her. Her fingers stroke your hair. It feels nice.

“I’m gonna take care of you from now on,” she says. “I’m gonna take you home.”  



End file.
